Car crash, and the doctor’s


Millie and I saw a car crash this morning.

Well, I say “saw” – we were about 15 yards away but facing the wrong way when it actually happened.  Still, one helluva bang.

We were walking down Hurst Road to the doctor’s (again) when there was suddenly the loud honk of a horn and a bang just behind us.  We both jumped and turned around to see a large van straddling the road with a small car to one side of it.  The van had (probably) tried to turn right into a driveway and the car had simply driven into the side of it.

The man driving the van was already out, but the young lady driving the car was clearly a bit shocked.  Still, both seemed in no doubt that it was the other’s fault.

Millie was absolutely fascinated by it – as I would’ve been at her age.  I was more concerned about the people, and asked a couple of bystanders if we should call the police.  But since both drivers seemed fine and their vehicles only badly dented I decided not to.

I forgot to mention that we saw the aftermath of another crash just last week in Sidcup while on the way to nursery.  This one was a bit more serious, however, in that the whole road was blocked by police and paramedics were loading a child into the back of an ambulance.

Again, it was only Millie and I and again she was fascinated by it – asking lots of questions about how it had happened (“I don’t know”), who was in the ambulance (“I don’t know”) and were they all right (“I hope so.”)

Today she was more interested in trying to reconstruct what might have happened – the most likely scenario involving either the van trying to turn right and the lady not looking or the man not indicating properly.

I rather think that’s enough RTAs for one week, though!

When we eventually got to the doctors she didn’t want to watch me have some blood taken from my arm (preferring to read a book instead) but afterwards, when the nurse showed her the two vials of blood, she did think that was cool.

After the blood sample I took Millie to school just round the corner from the doctor’s, then had to come back for another appointment, this time about my anti-depressants.

Just a routine “how are you getting on with them?” but with this still being so new it was reassuring to hear that I was pretty much a walking advertisement for the benefits of anti-depressants.

As I’ve said before, despite being on the smallest possible dose they’ve made a massive difference over the past month, primarily because I’m not so angry and impatient anymore.

I expressed my surprise to the doctor that I wasn’t suddenly “happy” on them, but rather simply more “even” – less prone to fly off the handle all of a sudden, and certainly my internal monologue was a lot calmer than it had been before (previously, my internal monologues had been scaring me, with how vicious, petty and impatient I could be).

Apparently that’s kind of what they’d expect to happen with anti-depressants, although it is strongly influenced by your outlook and emotions.  Having been quite a cheerful, laid back and forgiving guy before, it seems anti-depressants can return people like me to that course more easily, perhaps, than the neurotic worriers of the world.

At least, that’s my take upon it.

And the doctor gave me a shot of flu vaccine, too –  as a reward for being so much better! (not really – it was because I’m a diabetic).

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